See How They Lie

by Sue Wallman

  I clench my hands round my knife and fork. I’m not your daughter.

  “I advise you to be careful, Mae.”

  Being in the office is a relief, but the memories of Drew crossing the lawn to leave the Creek bounce off the walls. It feels as if my life’s been about survival ever since.

  The desk is empty – no work booklet or writing equipment. I pull the chair up to the window and sit and watch the gardeners. I can’t see into the schoolhouse but I spot Ms Ray when the main door opens and she walks down the steps with something in her hand. She looks up at my window and I wave. She doesn’t act as if she’s seen me, but carries on walking, past the golf buggies, to the side entrance of the main building. I expect she’s been sent to deliver my work booklet.

  I’m right – but Ms Ray delivers more than a work booklet and a pen. After handing it to me, with extra pages folded in to the centre, she leans against the closed door and says, “Mae, there’s a school I know that’s five hours from the Creek by car. Radley Bridge School. You could board there, and I think it would suit you. I can arrange for you to sit the entrance exam – you’d have to do it somewhere in Pattonville. There are scholarships available and you might well show enough potential to be awarded one. You wouldn’t need your dad’s money if you had a scholarship.”

  A school with proper teachers, five hours from here. It’s nothing but a tantalizing dream. “There’s no point. I’d never be allowed,” I say. “It’s arranged already. Hunter told me I have to go to Pattonville College, then come back and work here.”

  If she notices that I don’t call Hunter “Dad”, she doesn’t give any indication. “You don’t think he could be persuaded?”

  “No. He always gets his own way.” She’s been here long enough to know that, surely?

  “I thought you’d say that.” She sighs. “Look, at age eighteen you’re a legal adult and he can’t force you to do anything. But we’d need your parents’ permission for Radley Bridge. If you do well in their entrance exam, we’d stand a much better chance of persuading them.”

  Ms Ray has no clue, but I’m flattered she thinks I’m capable and worth bothering about.

  “Radley Bridge do the exam a few times a year. The next one is in eight days.” Ms Ray avoids my eye. “I won’t be at the Creek for the exams after that one. I’m going to leave.”

  I nod. I’m surprised she stayed this long, if I’m honest.

  “But I’m going to do my absolute best to get you to that entrance exam before I leave. That gives you seven days to prepare. I can help you.”

  “But…” It seems so hard to manage even that first step. “What’s the point?”

  Ms Ray looks stern. “The point, Mae, is that you have to try. You must never give up. You must seize chances. I want you to take the exam. We’ll worry about the rest later.”

  I nod. “Thank you.” At least the entrance exam will give me another glimpse into the outside world, and as peculiar as it would seem to the other staff kids, I like the idea of being tested academically.

  “I have a ton of things for you to read and learn. I’m going to leave books in the library for you on the science shelf because nobody seems to touch that, and give you extra worksheets in your booklet.”

  “There are cameras in the library,” I say.

  She’s taken aback. Our eyes meet. “You think it’s that bad?”

  “Yes.” We need a better arrangement. “A swimming locker,” I say. “We both swim, so it’ll work. Use one of the top row ones and tell me the four-digit code. There are no cameras in the changing room, but we’ll each have to wait until there’s no one there. They only get deep-cleaned the last week of every month.”

  “OK, that’s good.” She starts to open the door; she can’t be too long with me or Greta will have something to say. “One last thing. From now on it would be wise if neither of us spoke to the other unless we have to.”

  THIRTY-ONE

  I sit on the toilet and read Callie’s message.

  Hi Mae!

  Where do I begin? Your dad was good-looking and fun. Always up to no good and bunking off school!! Kids deserve to know who their parents are, so here goes.

  Federico had a drug problem. Speed was what he was into. That’s what we called amphetamine. Just had to look up how to spell that! Dragged your mum into the scene. Then – there’s no easy way to say this – he went and died from an overdose.

  I pause reading. Federico I say in my head, seizing on his name to counteract the knowledge that he’s dead. A small deluded part of me was expecting my dad to be special, some sort of hero. Someone who might rescue me and Mom.

  I don’t think Fed knew your mum was pregnant. Truth is, he probably wouldn’t have changed his ways and I’m sorry if I’ve upset you by saying that. Your mum was in a state but she didn’t want an abortion. She went to a clinic, a rehab place, to get clean for your sake. That’s where she met the doctor she ran off with. He was doing research into amphetamine but he took a shine to her and that was that. TBH I thought something really bad had happened to her!!! Glad she is still alive and kicking

  Don’t want to bitch about her family because they were nice but they were messed up. Her mum was on loads of dodgy tablets and her dad and brother liked a drop of alcohol. We had some good times, me and your mum. All us teenagers used to hang out on some scrubland and your mum was mad about those horses who lived there. She was good with animals.

  Long email to say your dad was called Federico Matthews. His mum was from South America somewhere. Never knew her name. His dad wasn’t around. Rumour was he was doing time, but I don’t know about that.

  Gotta go now.

  Callie x

  I look down at my tanned skin, and pull my dark hair round to inspect the colour. I thought I’d got my darker colouring from Mom, but it must be from my South American grandmother too.

  There are so many questions still to ask. About my grandmother Vonnie and my grandfather. Where mom grew up. What she was like before she met Hunter.

  Federico Matthews. Half South-American. Good looking and fun. Drug addict. Oblivious that he had a baby daughter on the way. I think of the photo tucked inside the book on daffodils in Mom’s office. F with Barney, Sunny and Rhonda.

  F wasn’t Frank, Mom’s brother. He was Federico, my dad.

  THIRTY-TWO

  Boot camp with Mick. I block it out by going over the things circling in my head, things I’ve found out via my iPad.

  Radley Bridge House. I saw photos of an ordinary building, but inside was a proper science lab and a massive library and rows and rows of computers. Lots of pupils, not a massive emphasis on sport, and a website without loads of slogans. Teachers allowed to help. No Creek watches. No Hunter, or Hugh, or whoever he is.

  I have a new, exciting thought. If Hunter isn’t my real father, does that mean that Mom might be the only person who needs to give permission for me to study at Radley Bridge?

  Amphetamine. I read it’s a stimulant, taken by people to keep themselves awake, energized and alert. It can cause death by placing too much strain on the heart.

  I picture Federico in a field with horses, his heart stopped.

  I keep checking the time on the iPad and comparing it to the time on my watch. I start writing down the time differences in the back of a notebook. It looks like a code. The battery indicator shows I’ve already used half the charge.

  At my regular health check, Raoul is the nurse on duty. As usual I turn away from seeing the blood fill up the syringe.

  “Does Greta still have blood taken?” I ask.

  “Of course,” says Raoul.

  “She could say no, couldn’t she? She’s an adult now.”

  “But why would she do that?” He looks appalled.

  “I’m not saying she would, but if she refused, what would you do?”

  “I’d tell her daddy that he needed to have a talk with her. Best health facility for miles, you have here. You are all lucky, lucky, lucky.” He smiles
his super-white bright smile and takes my watch off to plug it into the laptop.

  “Raoul, is it true that some of the patients are acting up?”

  He loses his smile. “Who did you hear that from?”

  “My dad.”

  He sighs. “Some patients are too restless. They want trouble. They need to be more busy.”

  “Do the watches ever tell the wrong time?” I ask.

  “Why do you ask that?” Raoul pulls the needle from my arm and brings the full syringe up to his face, as if the colour or viscosity of my blood can tell him what’s in my head.

  “I don’t know,” I say. “I thought mine had gone wrong the other day but I must have been mistaken.”

  “What made you think that?”

  I swallow. “It seemed too early to get up.”

  “Watches don’t go wrong here,” says Raoul. “This is Hummingbird Creek. We have excellent technology.” He shakes his head as I strap my watch back on.

  I’m shown into Karl Jesmond’s room. “Hello, my dear,” he says. “I hear you’re giving my daughter a hard time.”

  “She’s giving me a hard time,” I say and he laughs as if I’m Joanie who’s said something unintentionally funny.

  “Okaaaay,” he says. “Time for the questions. Ready?”

  “Yes,” I say, and I answer them smoothly.

  He jots a few scribbly words down on his piece of paper. “You’re starting to push the boundaries, huh? Disturbing the learning environment? Why’s that?”

  “I…”

  He’s stopped listening. He’s looking at his computer screen now. “What’s this?” he asks sharply. My stomach twists. Has something shown up on my data? “You think your Creek watch has gone wrong?”

  Raoul must have sent that through.

  “Oh. I … I was wondering if they ever did.” Surely other people have questioned it at various times?

  Karl looks at me and thins his lips. He no longer looks like an overfed, kindly uncle. “A word of advice: there will always be people who challenge the smooth-running of Hummingbird Creek. Who think that things aren’t working properly, or who focus on the negative and not on the many positives of a facility like ours. They think things are always better somewhere else.”

  I wonder what precise point he’s making. He rests his elbows on the desk and leans towards me. “It would be better for you not to be like that. We have to keep a very close eye on those people. Do you understand?”

  THIRTY-THREE

  The next few days consist of scribbling a few answers in my work booklet each morning for Greta’s benefit, and then I study hard. When I’m doing exercise, I’m going over what I’ve learned in my head, testing myself.

  At dinner, I force myself to swallow the beige pills. I hate them, and I hate that I need them.

  I swim a lot. Furious laps up and down the indoor pool, followed by periods of getting dressed really slowly because I’m waiting for the changing room to clear so I can access locker 87. I meet Thet in the pool, and I tell her that there’s a chance, slim but still a chance, that I might leave the Creek too. I make sure we keep our watches underwater. I wouldn’t be surprised if they had microphones in them and they recorded our conversations.

  “I’ve heard Will and a couple of others demanding to know why Austin wasn’t allowed to take it easy after he had that weird outburst on the basketball court,” she says. “He’s started asking why the Creek is so hung up on vitamins when Austin should have been given better treatments.” She twists her little orange earring as she thinks. “I’m worried for you, Mae.”

  “I’m going to find out what HB is,” I say. “And I’m going to leave here. It might take me years, but I’ll do it.”

  “I’ll help you,” says Thet. “I’ll be on the outside helping you.” She bites her lip. “I shouldn’t say this, but however bad this place might turn out to be … it feels like home right now. I’ve become better here. I can be myself. I’m scared to leave.”

  “You can be yourself somewhere else too,” I say.

  “But I still have so many stupid fears.”

  “They’re not stupid,” I say. “Irrational, maybe, but not stupid. If things go wrong, there’ll be other people who can help. People who aren’t as secretive and controlling as the Creek staff.”

  “I know.” The water is up to our chests. Thet takes her foot and pulls it into the stretch that we do in aqua-aerobic classes. “I used to be able to hold this for ages with weights round my ankle.” She lets her leg splash down into the water. “Maybe it’s because I’m doing less exercise.”

  “Maybe it’s because you’re not on the same dose of vitamins,” I say.

  “I’m down to an eighth of a pill now,” says Thet. “I feel fine. But still tired.”

  I know now that the tiredness isn’t just caused by exercise. I lift my legs and try to float. “You’ll be OK on the outside, Thet, and when we meet, I won’t be Mae Ballard. I’ll be Mae Hill. Mom’s name before she married.”

  “Mae Hill,” repeats Thet.

  It sounds good.

  We have a secret schedule, Noah and me. We meet from three to three-thirty every afternoon. Sometimes it really is thirty minutes. Other times when I go back to the apartment and check the iPad, I see it’s longer. We meet on the rooftop and he helps me study. I place clothing or the towel over our watches to muffle the sound of our talking – Noah says I’m being paranoid, which shows how crazy it’s become.

  The time my alarm wakes me up in the morning varies wildly, but the earliest is five a.m. For the patients who exercise earlier, it must be much earlier. The morning exercise session usually lasts far longer than the hour it’s supposed to. Creek time and real time often merge at midday after a long lesson session, which is when visitors or contractors turn up to work. The shutters go up and down at varying times, and when our watches show 22.00, the time I’m supposed to go to bed, it’s usually later than that. Creek time works to a twenty-four hour cycle, and we sleep for very little of it.

  When I have my weekly internet session, the time on the computer is the same as my watch, and I have no access to websites where I can check it. My emails from pen suppliers come through, and I notice for the first time that they have a date on them but not a time.

  My eyes blur, my muscles ache and my neck prickles. I have a nosebleed during brain training. I spend a lot of time afterwards wondering if it’s a new side effect or just a nosebleed.

  There are only three days to go before the entrance exam, and I’m back on the roof with Noah.

  “I don’t even know if I’m going to be able to take it,” I say. “I haven’t heard anything.”

  “Ms Ray will manage it somehow,” he says.

  I wish I had his optimism. To not even have the chance to take the exam will be agony. I close my textbook with my pen inside it. For a few moments I don’t want to think about the exam. I want to hear more about life on the outside, particularly Noah’s life. He tells me that the previous summer he worked in an old people’s home to earn money.

  “Why did you do that?”

  “My parents own a chain of them as one of their businesses. They wanted me to earn money. Not be a spoilt rich kid. Some of the old people were great. Others were miserable sods.”

  “I’ve never met anyone my age who’s earned their own money.”

  “That’s because you live in a Creek bubble.”

  “A bubble makes it sound like a fragile place,” I say. “Like a soap bubble or a glass bauble that you put on a Christmas tree. It’s more like a prison or a cage. If I stay here too many years, I won’t even know how to behave in the outside world. I’ve never been to a party where there weren’t orderlies monitoring behaviour. I’ve never danced in a couple.”

  “I’m rubbish at parties,” says Noah. “I skulk in the corners.”

  “Don’t you dance?”

  “Only if I’ve had some alcohol.” He smiles. “Don’t look so disapproving. Here. I’ll show you how a sl
ow dance goes.” He leaps to his feet and holds out his hands. For me to hold? I’m not sure. I stand but I keep my arms by my side.

  “Mae?” He steps closer and takes my hands and I hope he can’t feel that mine are trembling. He squeezes them. “If this was a party, I might put my hands on your waist like this.”

  Solid warmth on my waist.

  “And you might put your arms on my shoulders.”

  Slowly I do it.

  “Or we could do this.” He moves his hands so that one is on my shoulder and the other is holding mine. “This feels more your classic ballroom, I reckon.”

  I don’t want to say anything stupid so I keep quiet.

  “If we were at a party right now, we’d be the cool guy and the hot girl.” He adjusts his hand grip to something looser. “To be honest, it would be geeky guy, hot cool girl. In real life you’d be way out of my league.”

  I frown.

  “You’re … you know, really … more attractive than me.”

  He’s complimenting me and I should thank him, but I’m embarrassed. I pull away. He’s not sure what’s happened and neither am I.

  “You thinking of Drew?” he asks.

  I shake my head. Not in the way he means. It’s more that I’ve never felt special or desirable until now. Drew never made me feel this way.

  With Hunter, I try to be like I’ve always been. I listen to what he says and nod and smile as required. On Wednesday night I’m jittery. The exam is on Friday and there’s been no word from Ms Ray. She delivers booklets to the office before I get there, and I never see her in the swimming pool changing room. The notes she writes are things like

  Make sure you understand this.

  Good effort but look where I’ve added information.

  This is a classic mistake.

  Keep going. I see an improvement.

  Hunter talks to Mom and me about the possibility of a temporary ice-skating rink at the Creek in December. “We’d have it on the lawn near the security building, on the right as you drive in,” he says. “Imagine what a fantastic photo that would make with the main building as a backdrop.” He takes a bite of vegetable flan, and I look away so I don’t have to watch his jaw go up and down any more.